


Orbiting Io

by Polly_Lynn



Category: Castle
Genre: Children of Characters, Cute Kids, Easter, F/M, Family, Future Fic, Holidays, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 16:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14193147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polly_Lynn/pseuds/Polly_Lynn
Summary: “It’s pretty, though.” Kate hates the wheedling tone in her own voice. The rising pitch that’s creeping up on baby talk. She doesn’t do baby talk. “Don’t you think it’s pretty, Lil?”





	Orbiting Io

**Author's Note:**

> Future Fic. Easter. Dumb.

“It’s pretty, though.” Kate hates the wheedling tone in her own voice. The rising pitch that’s creeping up on baby talk. She doesn’t _do_ baby talk. “Don’t you think it’s pretty, Lil?”

“Pretty, Mama.” Lily nods agreeably, even as she goes to the dresser for the tenth time. “It pretty.” She pulls out the leggings Kate’s put away nine times already. Half a dozen other things spill out on to the floor along with them, bothering the girl not a bit. “I have these.” She carries them to the foot of her brand-new big girl bed and spreads them out on top of the dress. On top of the adorable little cardigan and the rest of it. “These pretty. Yes!”

“They _are_ pretty, baby.” Kate’s chin drops to her chest. The last thing she wants to do is give the kid a complex. “They’re so pretty when you wear them for school or when we’re out to play. But today is special. Everyone will be dressed up. I’ll be dressed up, and Daddy will, and your Gram . . .”

“Dress up!” Lily turns and launches herself, laughing, into her mother’s arms. It rocks Kate back on her heels. Plumps her down hard on her butt and very nearly lays them both out. “Dress up like GRAM.”

Kate leans forward, a counterbalance. Her chin comes to rest on Lily’s shoulder. She laughs, too, weary and more than a little hysterical as her gaze falls on the the scene of the crime she’s trying hard to prevent: A clash of plush cheetah print and a gauzy profusion of yellow and lilac.

“Well, there’s an image.” He appears in the doorway. He’s already dressed, mostly. Crisp linen slacks and a light purple button down. He looks neat and cool and put together, even witha dish towel tossed over his shoulder that makes her wonder how long, exactly, she’s been at this. “Gonna dress up like Gram for Halloween, little bean?”

“For today.” Lily tears herself away from Kate and runs to him. “For EATSER, Daddy. Everybody dress up.”

“Easter, kiddo.” He corrects her reflexively as he catches her up in his arms. “Definite dress up . . .” He trails off as Kate lifts pleading eyes to his. “Oh.”

“Oh.” She gestures helplessly to the bed. She sighs and swipes the back of her hand across her eyes. “ _I._ O.”

“I no _moon_ ,” Lily crows. She laughs into his neck, delighted every time by a joke she doesn’t get. A joke he wishes he hadn’t taught her when he sees how defeated Kate looks. He _almost_ wishes he hadn’t taught her.

“No moon.” He leans her backward in his arms. He dips her extravagantly, like they’re tangoing. It wins a tired smile from Kate. One that fades right away and brings him back to business. “But what else is IO for? What else are you sometimes?”

“In-moveble ob-jet!” Her face scrunches up as she sounds it out. She shakes her head vigorously. “I not that _either.”_

“Hmmm. Let me check.” He turns her sideways in his arms. Rolls her on her belly and runs quick fingers up her spine before he plumps her down on the floor, squealing with delight. “You are, Lily girl. You are the Immovable Object.”

“I _not_!” she yells, even though she’s happy enough. This is how the joke goes, so she yells out her lines. “I not that!”

“So.” He drops into the rocker behind Kate. He leans in. “This is bad?”

“Bad. I guess. I don’t . . .” She spreads her palms, bookending the mess on the bed. “They’re just clothes, right? I mean. Your mom, my dad. Shopping. Together. But it’s just clothes.”

“Pretty clothes.” Lily drops to the floor at Kate’s side. She worms her way under Kate’s arm. “My pretty Eatser clothes.”

“They are.” Kate wraps her up in a sudden, fierce hug. She pulls the girl into her lap, oblivious to the steady drum of tiny feet against her ribs, her thighs, her hips, as Lily giggles and squirms and generally protests. “Pretty Easter clothes, jelly bean.”

“I _not_ a jelly bean.” She lifts her head, a frown forming between her brows. A genuine frown, he sees, so _that’s_ where they are. That’s how far things have gone already.“I not a _bean_.” 

“Round and sticky and sweet for Easter. Today you are a jelly bean.” Castle tugs at her tiny fingers, pulling her toward him, even as he glides his other palm between Kate’s shoulder blades. He skims and presses at the knots of tension and murmurs low in her ear, “Tag in?”

“Tag in.” Kate nods. She turns her head to nuzzle the fresh-shaved smoothness of his cheek for a weary second. She breathes in the scent of his aftershave and hopes. “You are the Irresistible Force, after all,” she adds as she plants a palm and shoves to her feet.

“As IF, as ever,” he laughs, happy for their own little joke between them. Happy that _she’s_ happy enough to make it, however far things have gone already. “Don’t you forget it.” 

* * *

“My mama.” Lily stands in the middle of the room in a shoulder-snap undershirt that’s at least a size too small and a pair of brand new underpants. Two brand new pairs of underpants, actually, because the Easter Bunny brought her Wonder Woman, but she likes the frilly rhumba panties that go with the dress. “Mama help, Daddy. Mama know.”

“Mama has to put on her pretty clothes, Io.” He inches toward her—toward the cheetah-print leggings she’s clutching to the bare sliver of belly on display. “And everyone’s gonna be here soon. Gram and Gramps and Alexis.”

He calculates the odds of distraction. The opportunity to pluck the damned things from her hands and hide them somewhere in the back of beyond. The cast of characters he’s assembled so far isn’t going to get them there, so he pulls out the big guns. 

“And Sarah Grace. I’ll bet she has a pretty dress, too. We should get this on so you can show her yours.” He holds up the mass of lace and tulle and God knows what. “Maybe we’ll take pictures in the park?”

On a good day, she’s obsessed with pictures. On a good day, the blatant bribe ought to seal seal the deal. But it’s not a good day. It’s an Io day. 

“That not for Eatser.” She waves off the dress. She drops to her butt and starts pulling on the leggings. “That for _other_ dress up. I have kitty pans for Eatser.” 

“Kitty pants are for school, kiddo.” He lowers himself to the edge of the bed. “For every day, but today is special.”

“Eatser,” she agrees. She stops with one leg about one one-millionth into the damned leggings to pull down the yellow lace at her hip. “Eatser bunny bring-ded me _Wonder Woman_.” 

“He did.” Castle sighs and ponders another tack. “But before that, Gram and Gramps brought you this, remember?” He sets the dress aside, and produces the straw bonnet with its dangling lilac ribbons from the top of the dresser. He plops it on his own head. “Boom! Easter bonnet.”

“That a _hat,_ Daddy,” she replies witheringly. “I not have a hat for Eatser.”

“Hmmm.” He takes a gamble. He busies himself tying a fat bow underneath his chin, and appeals to her acquisitive nature. “I guess I do, then.”

“Gram n Gramps bring-ded that for _me_ ,” she eyes him suspiciously. “For my _other_ dress up.”

She stands on one wobbly leg, kicking off the cheetah print as she advances on him. “It not fit you, Daddy.” She stands on tiptoe, reaching for the hat.

“Not as a bonnet,” he agrees. He slides it off his head, lightning quick, and goes for broke. “But what about a buckler?”

He mimes fencing with one hand and holds the hat up on his forearm, blocking imaginary blows. 

“It _mine_ ,” Lily wails. She hits out at the moving target. “Daddy, it _my_ butler!”

“I know.” He gathers her up. Tries to soothe her and hopes like hell he hasn’t taken it too far. “It’s yours, Io. For Easter, right?”

“ _Not_ for Eatser,” she insists. He can practically hear some internal machinery winding up.“I not have it for Eatser!”

“Ok, ok, ok, ok. No hats, no bonnets, no head coverings of any kind.” He peppers the crown of her head with kisses and reassurance. He drums his fingers along her spine until she’s balanced on a knife blade between tears and hysterical laughter. She looks up at him with wide, golden eyes. Kate’s eyes, he thinks, and gives him an idea, even as it breaks his heart a little. “No hats. But let’s talk about shoes.”

 

* * *

“It’s a compromise.” He calls out from the landing as Lily rushes down the stairs ahead of him. 

“Compromise?” Kate barely has time to get the word out before Lily, in all her glory, crashes into her mother’s thighs. “That’s . . .” She manages to stare down in consternation and shoot him a dirty look at the same time. What _would_ be a dirty look if she weren’t biting her lip hard to keep from laughing. “A compromise.”

“I have _fancy_ shoes, Mama. Look!” Lily tugs at her mother’s skirt. She kicks up one toe, then the other, showing off the shining patent leather mary janes. “I wear my dress, because _have to_ for fancy shoes. And I have my kitty pans!” She hoists up her skirt to show off the damned leggings, then drops it again. “And this my _cape._ ” She tugs at the cardigan resting on her shoulders, secured by one button just under her chin. “Pretty for Eatser, Mama.”

“Pretty,” Kate agrees. She crouches down to hide her face in the curls pulled high on the girl’s head. “Very pretty, baby.”

“I . . .” Castle arrives, the straw bonnet still looped around his arm. “I . . . tried?”

He doesn’t look so cool and crisp now, as he peers down at the two of them, awaiting the verdict. Awaiting his fate, he looks hopeful. Frazzled. Irresistible.

“You did good, IF.” Kate smiles up at him. She tugs at his hand till they're a knot of three, hugging and giggling and leaning together. “Good compromise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ok. This is dumb. And it’s late. I wanted to get it in Saturday night as my Thing a Month for March, but I guess By Slow Degrees will have to count as my Thing a Month for March, and this will have to count as a super-dumb, super-late Easter thing. 


End file.
